


On the Line

by swallowed_stars



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness, Supernatural Elements, pining shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swallowed_stars/pseuds/swallowed_stars
Summary: Shiro's not feeling himself lately, and the phone he found in an abandoned corridor of the ship may or may not serve to help with that.





	On the Line

Shiro finds it lying in a beat-up box in a room just beyond the training deck. He isn’t _looking_ for anything aside from a breather after another distressing bout with the robot gladiator. However, he finds the phone-looking device all the same.

 

What piques Shiro’s intrigue the most is that the phone is wedged among mangled scraps from some long-forgotten castle tech. It’s the only thing intact among the graveyard of machine bits, so maybe it’s worth salvaging. After all, Lance managed to find a phone lying around not too long ago; he could always use this one as a backup if needed.

 

Shiro taps against the phone’s screen with his flesh hand, but it doesn’t react to him. While the obvious conclusion is that the thing is obsolete, Shiro, for whatever reason, has his doubts. He pockets the phone against his better judgment. He might be able to get it to work eventually and after all, where’s the harm in it?

 

\----

 

Shiro hasn’t tried turning the phone on in days. He’s pretty much resolved to giving up on it, having placed it in a drawer in his nightstand. He’s currently lying on his back, inhaling gently through his nostrils, his arms propped behind his head. He tries to postpone his thoughts of stratagems and how better to strengthen his bond with Black, willing himself to sleep instead. However, before he’s able to do so, an orange light seeps into his vision, causing him to squint.

 

Shiro sits up, looking around for the source, and notes that the light is coming from his nightstand. The small keyhole that sits directly in the middle of the nightstand’s drawer is emitting a faint strip of orange light in Shiro’s face. Curiously, Shiro reaches over and pulls the drawer open to find that the phone is lit up.

 

“Odd…” murmurs Shiro as he holds the phone in his hand. The only explanation he can gather is that his many attempts to juice up the phone took longer than expected, though he still isn’t certain why he cares about the thing so much. There’s really nothing he could use it for unless he adopts Lance’s idea, and taking pictures of himself is just about the last thing he wants to do.

 

Suddenly, the screen changes from its neutral holo-orange to that of a keypad. Shiro blinks curiously as only three buttons appear on the screen, each of them green and perfectly orbicular. It’s not like that of any phone he’s accustomed to, but then again, he’s dealing with Altean tech. What’s also perplexing is that none of the three buttons are marked numerically or otherwise.

 

“Maybe this isn’t meant for calling out,” Shiro says to himself, “maybe it’s for some sort of internal communication like in our helmets.”

 

Whether he’s holding an old gadget belonging to the preceding Paladins or not, Shiro starts to feel uneasy. He should know better than to go around playing with accessories he’s unfamiliar with on an alien spaceship. For all he knows, it might not even be a functioning phone; it could be a remote to whatever was busted up and thrown in that box.

 

“I should just put this away somewhere.” Shiro says, lowering the phone but still not surrendering his hold on it. There’s some strange pull he has to the thing, as though he were _meant_ to find it. Besides, there’s the very off chance that it could be something useful.

 

“What the heck?” Shiro says rhetorically, pressing the thumb of his flesh hand against the first green button on the screen. Shiro tenses, preparing for some detonation to go off, but nothing happens. His focus shifts again to the screen, which has reverted to its original blankness.

 

Shiro scoffs and tosses the phone onto his bed, rolling his eyes at his own foolishness. What did he even expect to happen? Shiro then closes the drawer, searching for the tiredness that he’d previously felt, when he hears a voice behind him:

 

_Hello?_

 

Shiro freezes.

 

_Hello?_

 

Shiro swivels around and gapes at the phone lying across his sheets. His heart begins thumping erratically; he can feel it resonating all the way in his eardrums. That voice…

 

_Is someone there?_

 

Shiro lunges onto his bed, grasping frantically at the phone and placing it against his ear. There’s no logical explanation for this, but he would know that voice anywhere.

 

“Mom?” Shiro says past the lump in his throat.

 

_Who is this?_

 

“Mom,” Shiro says, his chest constricting painfully, “it’s me.”

 

_Ryou? Where are you calling from, I don’t recognize the number._

 

This can’t be real; surely it’s a fabrication, perhaps even a ploy to get to him, but he’s so overjoyed to hear his mother’s voice that it hardly matters in that moment.

 

“It’s not Ryou, Mom.” Shiro says. “It’s me, it’s...Takashi.”

 

Shiro can hear her gasp sharply on the other end. He stays quiet, his hands working up a tremble.

 

_Takashi?_

 

Shiro has to bite his lip when he hears wetness in her tone. He’s dangerously close to joining her, that sensation welling up and making his face grow warm.

 

“Yeah, it’s me.”

 

 _How? They told me--told_ **_us_ ** _that you were dead._

 

A surge of helplessness and dread overtakes Shiro. As far as everyone back on Earth is concerned, Takashi Shirogane is poor Icarus, lying dead somewhere with his scorched wings. What’s worse, everyone thinks he took the Holts down with him. He’s the worst kind of failure there is.

 

“What you heard wasn’t true. I’m alive.” Shiro says.

 

_If you’re alive, then where are you? Are you alright?_

 

Shiro looks down at his Galran arm, curling the metal hand into a fist.

 

“So to speak.” Shiro manages.

 

 _Takashi,_ **_where are you_** _? How are you calling me?_

 

Shiro’s mouth becomes incredibly dry. How could he even begin to explain all of this to his mother? Would she think he’s crazy? Would she even understand? Or, perhaps, would she start to think _she’s_ crazy, like this phone call never actually happened? How many people would believe that she spoke with her son, who’s pronounced dead, during a phone call with what Shiro assumes is an untraceable number?

 

_Takashi!_

 

“I’m here, Mom.” Somewhere on the other line, the dam breaks. He picks up his mother’s sniffling, the ragged breaths she’s intaking between sobs.

 

_I don’t understand._

 

“You have to believe me, I’m alive. I never meant to do this to you and Ryou; all I wanted was to go off on my own, to explore, to see space…” Shiro stumbles on the latter half of the word “space”, just barely choking it out before his voice cracks.

 

_Come home to us, Takashi. We miss you so much._

 

The tears drip down Shiro’s cheeks one by one. He says to his mother: “I want to. I miss you so much and all I want is to come home, but I can’t. I have to make things safe first.”

 

_Safe? Takashi, who isn’t safe?_

 

“No one is,” Shiro answers as he wipes at his face, “not until I’m done here. Can you wait for me until then?”

 

_You’re frightening me._

 

“Mom, please, can you wait for me?” Shiro reiterates and he switches his position on the bed, taking to hugging his knees against his chest.

 

There’s a pause before Shiro’s mother replies again:

 

_Yes, of course I will._

 

Shiro would trade his other arm if it meant that he could see her; if he could brush the tears from her eyes and embrace her. Though he remembers her, she still feels foreign to him, as does every other aspect of his life before the war. He’s such a far cry from who and what he used to be; parts of him are still jumbled up and strewn about and some are missing entirely. Would his mother even recognize him if he came home?

 

“I love you,” Shiro says desperately, “I’m sorry.”

 

_Takashi, are you still there? Takashi?_

 

“Mom?”

 

_Takashi? Hello?_

 

Shiro hops to his feet, pressing the phone closer to his face as if that will do him any good.

 

“Mom, can you hear me?”

 

_Taka…_

 

Shiro begins to pace, hoping it’s a matter of a bad connection on her end. However, the line soon goes silent.

 

“Please come back, there’s still so much I have to tell you…”

 

There’s no response. Shiro’s quivering so fiercely that the phone just slips out of his hand and clatters to the floor beneath him, its screen bare.

 

\----

 

“Are you alright?” Keith asks, concern abound in his violet eyes. The two of them are alone in the corridor, Keith having waited until the others were gone to corner him. They’re both still in their armor, reeling post-battle. Shiro’s hoping to use that as a sufficient ruse for his mood.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Shiro says plainly. His face doesn’t reflect it, and furthermore, Keith knows him well enough to detect when Shiro’s neglecting himself.

 

Keith’s eyes briefly drift downward and then back up to Shiro’s face. He gives Shiro another chance: “You sure?”

 

“No,” is what Shiro wants to say, “not one bit. Even if we were to put aside the fact that I feel inadequate and like I’m losing my mind, there’s still the fact that I love you and I can’t say it. My heart might stop if I put out your fire, but what else can I do when you deserve more than me?”

 

“Positive.” is what Shiro says instead, forcing a smile. He can tell from the arch in Keith’s brow that he doesn’t believe it, but he accepts it.

 

“Okay,” Keith says warily, “I’ll see you around.” Keith leaves, and Shiro instantly mourns his absence, as usual.

 

Shiro retreats into his room, placing his helmet on his bed and stripping himself of his armor. It’s been three days since the call to his mother, but every time he’s left alone with his thoughts, he switches back to wondering just what happened. The phone, which he ended up kicking across the room in frustration, hasn’t lit up since the incident, and it makes Shiro panic at the thought that it was all in his head. Maybe it was a dream or a hallucination. After all, how could he call his mother from space? How could the phone know his mother’s number?

 

Shiro knows he could bring the phone to the team, maybe take the opportunity to ask Allura what it is, but it seems pointless to mention when they have so much else going on. Moreover, it’d be pretty pathetic for their leader to admit that he’s scared of some possessed phone. It’s best if he keeps this to himself.

 

Shiro places his head in his hands, rubbing at his face gingerly. The fatigue that’s accrued over the past few days feels bone deep, but he still can’t rest properly. Exhaustion’s nearly taken over him; it’s looking through his eyes, moving his fingers, prompting his breathing in and out. The fact that he’s shaken up from his brush with Keith and from fighting doesn’t serve to help him any.

 

When Shiro lets his hands fall to the wayside, he blinks laboriously and notes that same orange light radiating from the corner of the room. Shiro turns his head to face it, his eyes falling into a glowering stare. He walks over to pick it up, thinking that it might be worthwhile to power up his metal arm and just melt it. However, he finds that the display on the screen has changed somewhat. The same three buttons are there to form the proverbial keypad, but the first button that Shiro had pressed is now grey while the other two remain green.

 

Shiro’s brows knit in frustration as he presses his finger against the grey button and nothing changes. He presses it three times, each time tapping more forcefully, until he resigns. In his stead, he accidentally swipes on the button adjacent to the original one he pressed, and Shiro feels his breath hitch when he hears a dial tone.

 

Shiro scrambles to turn it off or just make it _stop_ , as he has no idea who it could possibly be calling this time. He pokes against the screen, he shakes the phone, but he ceases altogether when he hears Keith’s voice:

 

_Hey._

 

So it called Keith this time? Well, that’s much easier than dealing with someone back on Earth. Although, Shiro finds himself puzzled at _how_ Keith could answer a phone…

 

“Keith, is that you? How are you talking to me right now?”

 

 _What do you mean how am I talking to you? You called_ **_me_** _, dummy._

 

“Right, yeah. I’m sorry. I can explain myself…”

 

_It’s okay, I figured you were just running late or caught in traffic._

 

Traffic? What was Keith talking about? Wasn’t he just down the hall from him…

 

_Speaking of, do you know when you’ll be home?_

 

“When I’ll be home?”

 

_Yes? You know, that place where we live?_

 

Shiro’s stomach does a flip; ‘Where _we_ live’? There’s no way he could be talking to the Keith who’s in his bedroom at the moment. Shiro doesn’t know what to do nor what to make of it, but he has to play along. He’s not sure what he’s messing with here and the last thing he wants to do is derange the order of things.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. It’s been a long day. How are things with you?” Shiro says. He has to keep it vague if he’s going to get any information out of him.

 

_We’re fine; the kids are playing outside with the neighbors._

 

Shiro has to lower himself onto the bed for fear that his legs will give out underneath him. Kids? Could it mean that he and this Keith are...

 

“Good, glad to hear it.” It’s an understatement. Shiro feels like his feet are tied to the sky.

 

_They missed you at dinner, but I told them that things at the Garrison are always pretty hectic around exams week._

 

“I missed them too.” Shiro says, sentimentality seeping into his tone. It’s strange to be missing people he’s never met, but they’re his and Keith’s children. They have _children_. He yearns to ask Keith more about them, to describe their children in a way that he feels he can actually know them, but he can’t. It would seem too out of the ordinary. He has to stay cryptic.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

_Yeah, babe?_

 

He has to talk himself down from getting excited at hearing the word “babe” directed at him in Keith’s voice. He says: “How long has it been since Voltron?” It’s a risk and he knows it, but Shiro has a theory to test.

 

Keith hums thoughtfully on the other end. He then says: _It’s been ten years now that I think about it. Fuck, we’re old._

 

So Shiro was right. This isn’t some alternate version of things; this is the future. This is his and Keith’s future, and they’re together and back on Earth and they have kids. If he weren’t sitting down, Shiro might actually pass out.

 

“That’s right,” Shiro says, faking nonchalance, “I was thinking about it and I couldn’t remember.”

 

_You sure you’re okay?_

 

Shiro swallows and says, “I’m fine. I’m just sitting in traffic like you said and I’m ruminating on things. Feeling a bit nostalgic today, I guess.”

 

Keith sounds a bit insecure as he says: _So you acting like this has nothing to do with our talk last night? About me mentioning another baby? Because, you know, we can keep discussing it. My heart’s not completely set on it if you don’t want to…_

 

It’s badly timed, but Shiro has to remove the phone from his ear just to catch his breath. He’s so overwhelmed, so utterly and completely elated, that he can’t think straight. Keith, the boy he’s loved for years, is not only relaying to him that they’re married with children, but is now asking him to continue growing their family. Speech can’t even come to him.

 

_Shiro?_

 

Shiro grapples with the phone, bringing it again to his ear. He says:

 

“Keith, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone silent like that, but please listen to me: I’d love to have another baby. My lack of response isn’t because I don’t care; it’s the opposite, in fact. I’m so happy I don’t know what to do with myself.”

 

Keith sheepishly drawls: _Well, that’s good news. We’ll talk about it when you get home, then?_

 

“The second I walk through the door.” Shiro says. He feels a blush blooming across his cheeks, but he’s confident from Keith’s voice that he’s reacting similarly.

 

_I should probably let you get back to driving._

 

“Wait,” Shiro says, and Keith pauses reverently, “there’s something else. Something I’ve been meaning to let you know for awhile; I just haven’t figured out the right words until now.”

 

_Okay._

 

Shiro nervously draws in some air before he admits: “I love you; I’ve loved you for _so_ long. There was a time where I waited for it to pass, for me to realize I’m not good enough for you and move on, but I can’t. You keep me in love because whenever I’m around you, you keep me a better version of myself. I just want you to know that.”

 

_Takashi, I...are you positive you didn’t hit your head or something?_

 

Shiro can only laugh as he says: “No, I feel great.”

 

_I hate when you get all mushy and sweet like this; you know I can’t come up with anything that nice. But I love you too._

 

Shiro sighs contentedly and closes his eyes as he implores Keith: “Will you say it again?”

 

It’s Keith’s turn to chuckle as he says: _I love you, you dork. Now come home to me._

 

“As soon as I can.” Shiro says solemnly.

 

_Bye, babe. See you soon._

 

“Goodbye, I love you.” Shiro says, and it comes naturally to him the more he says it aloud. He lies down on his back, again shutting his eyes as he clasps the phone to his chest. All at once, he forgets his self-doubt, he abandons his anxiety over whether or not the moment is real, and he listens to the palpitations of his heart, the sound of him being alive.

 

\----

 

“Have you told him? I’ve noticed a change in your demeanor lately.” Allura says after the room empties of everyone save for her and Shiro.

 

“Not yet, but I’m planning to.” Shiro says, which earns him as suspicious look from Allura, her lips pursed somewhat.

 

“I mean it. I’ve been practicing.” Shiro says, smiling earnestly at her.

 

Allura softens and says to him: “It’s good to see you smiling more.”

 

Shiro’s inclined to agree; it’s comforting to know that there’s a future he’s fighting for.

 

\----

 

The phone hasn’t tried beckoning him lately, once again gone completely dark. Shiro wants so badly to speak again to his mother or the version of Keith that’s both aware of Shiro’s feelings and reciprocates them. He’s tried to get the phone to respond to his touch, but nothing’s happened since he called Keith.

 

Shiro doesn’t want to admit that the device has such a strong hold over him, but it does. Next to his duties as a Paladin and thoughts of Keith, the phone is constantly plaguing his mind. It’s a strenuous duality: he’s a tad repulsed by it, frustrated and confused as to why this is all happening to him, and yet he also finds his eyes wandering to it when he’s in his room, poised for it to let him speak with some other figure in his life. He still has yet to disclose anything about the phone to his friends, but he doesn’t plan to for both embarrassment and underlying fear that they’ll take it from him.

 

Shiro shakes his head at himself as he reaches for the phone on his nightstand. There are a number of things he could be preoccupying himself with at the moment, but he can’t stop; he _has_ to do this.

 

“C’mon…” He whispers as he prods the screen. For the first time, the phone actually alights from Shiro’s invitation rather than of its own accord.

 

It’s the same as usual: the orange lighting and the three buttons, though like the previous time, the second button has now turned to grey. Shiro halfheartedly pushes both the first and second grey buttons but, as before, the action is fruitless.

 

There’s still the third call to make, and Shiro teeters between curiosity and concern as he contemplates whether it’s worth doing or not. He exhales and presses the remaining green button, the air funneling out of his lungs as he waits to see who picks up this time.

 

The phone rings three times before Shiro wonders if anybody is even going to answer. That’d certainly be funny if not; perhaps it’d teach him a lesson about this whole experience, though he’s not sure what that might be. The phone’s ringing then tapers off, and Shiro hears it:

 

_Hello?_

 

It’s Shiro’s voice on the other end; it’s his own voice. Alarm starts to sink in as he considers that he’s truly gone insane. How else could this be possible?

 

“Hello? Who is this?” Shiro says back. Maybe he’s imagining it; maybe he just needs to re-hear the other person.

 

 _Takashi Shirogane,_ the other him says pointedly, _who is this?_

 

Is there even a proper answer to that? What could he say? After all, Shiro hardly knows himself in his present state. Furthermore, he can’t just go around literally talking to himself...

 

_Ryou, is this you? Don’t you have anything better to do?_

 

Ryou? So this Shiro knows his twin? Maybe he’s talking to the future version of himself, the one that lives with Keith. Shiro relies on that hope, because any other outcome he entertains is genuinely horrifying.

 

_Ryou, I can hear you breathing on the other end. Come on, I have to get to sleep. We’re launching off tomorrow._

 

Everything stops. Shiro’s body becomes fraught with tension, a stab of rigor mortis wherein he can’t move a solitary muscle. He’s talking to himself, but his past self. The self that’s about to head to Kerberos the following morning. The self that’s going to become whoever’s standing in this room on this phone call.

 

It all begins to line up in Shiro’s mind. For some reason, the phone called someone from Shiro’s present, his future, and now his past. This is monumental; he could change the course of his entire life with this call. He can tell himself not to go, that it’ll be a mistake that will corrode him and land him in the middle of an intergalactic war, that all his loved ones will think he’s dead and that the blame will be put on his shoulders. He can talk himself out of it, convince himself to knock on Keith’s door and tell him how he feels. He could continue his studies and just focus on piloting. He could fix _everything_.

 

But then, how would that affect the course of the present timeline? If he doesn’t go to Kerberos, sure, he won’t look years older and be missing a limb, but what about the war? Just because he doesn’t go to Kerberos doesn’t mean the Galra will stop conquering other worlds. In fact, would Voltron even get put into action again? Would Coran and Allura ever wake up? Would the Galra eventually come for Earth?

 

A thought slithers into Shiro’s head and says, “Do it. You can have your life back on track. You’ll be happy and stable, you’ll be with your family, you’ll have Keith sooner. You’ll have everything you want _right now_. All of this could be someone else’s problem.”

 

Shiro wants it; he wants all of it. He wants to be back at the Garrison, to live a normal life, to stave off those jagged memories of his torture. He wants to feel like a man instead of a monster.

 

But would a man sacrifice the greater good just for himself? Would _Takashi Shirogane_ do that?

 

Shiro gulps as he says into the receiver: “Sorry, wrong number.” He removes the phone from his ear and holds it steadily in his metal hand, which takes on its purple hue while it powers up. Shiro snaps the phone in half.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Anyway, that's what you missed on Glee.


End file.
